The New York Marathon - The Crowds

I read that runners noted fewer fans this year than in past marathons. I find this rather difficult to believe, though of course I have no basis for comparison. While there were a few areas that were a bit sparse, for the most part the course was lined with people. Somewhat annoyingly, some of them were clearly there only to watch for friends or family; they stood there passively, cheering only when they spotted someone they knew. I know it's tough to keep up a steady stream of hooting and hollering, but it's a strange feeling to run by large groups of people who just watch pass without saying anything.

For the most part, however, spectators were vocal, which really helped during the earlier parts of the race before my tunnel vision kicked in. The course was frequently a cacophony of whistling, yelling, cow bells, and the occasional vuvuzela. I had written my name on masking tape and stuck it to the front of my shirt, and quite a few people yelled things like, "Go Beth!" and "You got this, Beth!" as I ran by. It was nice to hear some personalized cheers, but more than that it was motivating, serving as an incontestable reminder that people were watching me and that I'd better keep my pace up! Running alongside others always makes the distance easier to handle, and running in front of others has the same effect.

One of my favorite parts about racing (again, pre-tunnel vision) is looking at all the fan-made signs, and there were plenty to admire on Sunday. Of course there were lots of garden variety signs ("Go Barb Go"; "Good job Daddy! We Love You!"; etc.), but twenty-six point two miles of New Yorkers can be pretty creative. I noticed that making enormous photographs of people's heads--runners, I presumed--and mounting them on sticks so that they could be waved around was popular. Also hot were large pictures of people's pet dogs glued to poster boards. I made mental notes of many of the signs I liked. Here are the ones I remember; please note that some of the content below may not be suitable for children:

You're running better than the federal government/Obamacare website!
(Lots of references to things that are long and hard, and requests for faster performance)
I don't do marathons, I do marathon runners.
Your feet hurt because you're kicking so much ass! (lots of these)
Run now, beer/bacon later!
Babewatch - I'm looking for Pamela*
Yo! Welcome to Brooklyn!
2012 was awful - We missed you!
Run like you stole something! (lots of these)
Status update: You're killing it!
Nice Legs!
Spoiler Alert: A Kenyan won.
Run faster, B*tches ( with a picture of Jesse, plus other signs that made reference to Breaking Bad)
More running, No Walken (with a picture of Christopher Walken)
Way to go, random stranger!
If marathons were easy, they'd be called your mom.
Toenails are for pussies.

Spectators who didn't have signs often had other encouragement to offer. Small children beamed up hopefully at passing runners, offering their palms for high fives. (Normally I oblige, but I was too focused to think much about them on Sunday, not to mention loathe to weave all over the course and add mileage to an already long race.) Similarly, a few signs had the outline of a hand on them with messages inviting runners to "Hit here for power." I saw one man holding a tissue box on a stick over the course and another woman handing out paper towels from a roll; grateful runners grabbed at them and wiped noses as they ran by. Although there were aid stations to provide water and Gatorade, as well as gel packs and bananas in some cases, some spectators took it upon themselves to hand out their own candy, bananas, and orange slices. I saw at least one woman dressed as a banana as she handed them out.

According to a program I received, there were 130 musical performers along the course, and I did seem to pass by a lot of them. The musical styles and degree of talent on display was highly variable. Some groups, sounding like garage bands, played rock. I heard Beatles and bagpipes. I particularly liked a drumline, and was sorry to have to run by a quartet of young women performing a polished dance routine as they sang into microphones. I was generally only able to hear fifteen to twenty seconds' worth of music as I passed by before yelling fans and pounding feet drowned out the sound. Sometimes I was sorry about this, and sometimes I was glad.

Things got really quiet in South Williamsburg, but I was prepared for this lull. I'd learned from a neighborhood guide I read before the race that this area was home to one of the largest community of Samtar Hasidic Jews in the world. Men with beards, earlocks, and big black hats silently watched us run by, looking mildly annoyed. Well-dressed girls in thick tights stood in groups, smiling a bit and talking to each other in hushed voices as they stared at us and we stared right back. It was pretty fascinating. Apparently this group was resistant to the marathon course going right through their neighborhood, but Fred Lebow, founder of the marathon, was able to foster enough goodwill in the community to allow the course to be plotted along its current lines. Lebow was born in Romania as Fischel Lebowitz. He used his fluent Yiddish to sweet-talk the residents into allowing him to design the course the way he wanted it. Some of the residents looked as though they rather regretted this leniency, but I hope they didn't begrudge us this one day too much.

Regardless of whether the spectators were silent or raucous, I always had only to look a few feet to the left or right to be entertained by my fellow runners. I saw several women running in tutus and one man running in a cow costume. In past years, I've twice seen a skinny Asian man running surprisingly quickly in a Minnie Mouse costume, and at least once seen a girl dressed as Winnie the Pooh in a t-shirt that reads "Will Run for Hunny." I did not see either of them this year, unfortunately. Many who were running to raise money for medical research had touching messages on their shirts about the people they were running for. And one zealous German ran with his country's flag tied around his neck like a cape.

All of this is par for the course in New York. I was talking recently to my friend Ferran, a Spaniard I met in graduate school who is living in South Korea now. He doesn't much like it. He said he still feels like a complete outsider after a few months, and could live there forever and probably still feel like he doesn't belong. In New York, though, he felt like a native the moment he arrived. This city is like that. The diversity and variety can be overwhelming, but that's part of what makes New York so welcoming, too. It seems fitting that this spirit of openness permeated the marathon.

*Pamela Anderson was just one of the celebrities who ran the marathon. I looked for her but did not see her, and learned later that she was almost certainly behind me. She finished nearly two hours after I did.